


A Helping Hand

by oxiosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: Luciano watches them run after the ball as he sits on the soft grass by the pitch they have rented on a sportscenter - just as they do every weekend. It is a cramp that forced Martín out of the match and into his back on the floor with Luciano on top of him, helping him stretch his leg like the attentive boyfriend he is.
Relationships: Argentina/Brazil (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [that one art with some bros stretching](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/744021) by Zu. 



> Characters belong to the community Latin Hetalia and their respective creators ♥
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández.  
> Brazil: Luciano Da Silva.  
> Chile: José Manuel González Rodríguez.  
> Peru: Miguel Alejandro Prado.

“Is this better?”

“A little farther down… yes, that’s better, a-ah…”

Just to test how farther down Martín’s muscles can stretch, Luciano pushes his leg forward. It always surprises him just how flexible Martín actually is; it takes quite an impressive length for Luciano to actually feel some resistance from Martín’s taut muscles.

“Like that?” he asks in a quiet whisper, a smile dangling from the corner of his lips.

“Yes, like that...” Martín grunts and closes his eyes with a blissful expression on his face.

Luciano gives Martín’s thigh a gentle squeeze, and Martín opens his eyes to meet his gaze with a smile of his own.

“Jesus Christ, get a fucking room!” Manuel yells at them from inside the football pitch.

Luciano raises his head and gives Manuel’s red frowning face a smirk. Far less amused, Martín raises his middle finger in his direction.

“Fuck off, we’re busy here!” he yells back at him.

Manuel raises his finger back at him with another curse, and runs off when Sebastián calls after him from the other side of the pitch.

Luciano watches them run after the ball as he sits on the soft grass by the pitch they have rented on a sportscenter - just as they do every weekend. It is a cramp that forced Martín out of the match and into his back on the floor with Luciano on top of him, helping him stretch his leg like the attentive boyfriend he is. Unbothered by Manuel’s interruption, Luciano hooks Martín’s leg on his shoulder and pushes Martín’s leg forward.

The stretch presses Luciano’s crotch right into Martin’s ass, and Martín lets out what unmistakably is a  _ moan _ .

Luciano looks up and raises one thick eyebrow at him. Martín meets his eyes and has the indecency to shoot a shameless wide smirk back at him.

Luciano can feel warmth stirr low in his belly, and he can’t help to press his crotch closer to Martín’s ass. He slides his hand down Martín’s leg, traces the lean muscle in his way down. He cups Martín’s butt, barely spares a glance toward the pitch, and then slides a hand between Martín’s legs.

Martín’s dick twitches and Luciano feels the beginning of an erection swelling under his palm.

“Well, well,  _ Tinho _ ,” he muses with soft interest. “Manuel might have a point after all.”

“Don’t you ever let him hear you say that, please,” Martín answers back.

Luciano lets out a thoughtful hum. He traces Martín’s length over his shorts, tugs lazily at it and draws a sigh out of Martín.

“Don’t start anything you’re not willing to finish,” Martín warns with a low voice and half-lidded lustful eyes.

A wide shark-like smile spreads across Luciano’s lips. He is not one to back down from such a sweet challenge.

“Hey, guys!” he raises his head and calls at the field. “We’ll be heading home for today!”

“We still have the pitch for 20 more minutes!” Miguel frowns at them.

“It’s fine, don’t mind us!” Martín screams back as Luciano stands and offers him a hand to get on his feet. “You keep playing, we’ll see you later!”

It is late enough for the last football team to have already cleared the locker room, and yet too early for the current one to hit the showers. They have the room for themselves, and make good use of it. They stumble inside kissing and tugging at their clothes, which they basically rip off each other - they barely have just enough presence of mind to put them away in their sport bags and take their toiletries.

Luciano basically shoves Martín into one shower stall. He closes the curtain and corners him against the tiled wall, takes his face between his hands and kisses him until they both feel dizzy and breathless. He takes Martín’s hips in his hand and turns him around, presses against him and leaves wet open mouthed kisses on his neck as his hands trace his chest and stomach idly. Martín throws his head back to grant him easier access and takes one of Luciano’s hands and pushes it between his legs, right where he is painfully hard for some attention.

Luciano chuckles, nibbles his neck gently in retaliation, and pulls away. He takes Martín’s body wash and drips a generous amount on his chest and hand. He spreads the gel around the front of his body - doesn’t resist the urge to take his erection in hand and gives a few tentative tugs. Martín watches him over his shoulder, one lustful green eye fixed on him attentively. Luciano smirks at him, and far from shying away from the attention, holds his glaze and speeds up to give him a little show. He can feel his blood burn when Martín reaches between his legs and starts tugging at his heavy cock in tandem with Luciano’s pace.

Luciano steps forward and presses a hand between Martín’s shoulder blades - the angle pushes Martín’s hips back into a nice arch in which his ass sticks out ready for the take. Luciano pours some more body wash on Martín’s lowerback, and Martín groans at the feeling of the cold gel hitting his overheated skin. Luciano smiles at him and presses his erection against Martín’s ass, nests it right between his asscheecks and bucks into him spreading the body wash between the two of them. He lets one body-wash-lubed hand curl around Martín’s body and closes around his hot erection. Martín grunts again, and fucks into the tight fist Luciano plumps in rhythm with his rutting.

The slide of smooth wet skin is delightful. It won’t take much of this for the two of them to come - it wouldn’t have taken much of this for the two of them to come, if the locker door hadn’t slammed open.

Luciano lets out a curse under his breath and forces himself to a halt. The locker room is now filled with loud laughter and talking as some team calls their day of practice to an end.

He is about to peel off Martín with a promise to continue at home when Martín’s erection twitches in his hand at the intrusion. Martín lets out a quiet groan as the voices reach the showers, loud and echoing across the tiled walls and the showers around them start running. He presses back into Luciano and rocks his hips tentatively as if there weren’t at least two men less than two meters away separated only by the flimsy stall’s walls and a nylon curtain.

“Luciano,” Martín whispers, arches his back to keep on rocking his ass against Luciano’s still hard cock and into his now loose fist.

Luciano tugs at his erection tentatively, and Martín shudders and groans against him. Luciano stops again, this time numbstruck with realization.

Martín  _ likes _ this.

The sudden burning wave of arousal is enough to draw a groan from Luciano. He catches Martín’s lips between his in a wet kiss full of teeth, bucks roughly into his ass and reaches blindly for the faucet to turn on the shower.

It is not what Luciano was expecting, but he is far from complaining. There is something hot and cheeky about it, and Martín seems to be enjoying himself on a level Luciano has very rarely seen. Martín’s arousal is intense and highly contagious; Luciano himself finds himself feeling like burning from the insides for something he otherwise wouldn’t have cared much about.

Luciano ruts against Martín’s ass and tugs at his erection alternating paces; he starts slow and shallow, speeds up enough to get Martín panting and biting down groans, and then riles it back down. The running water is enough to drown the sound of their wet bodies rocking against each other, and hides their groans and sighs - most of them, at least; there is no concealing the cry Martín lets out when Luciano sinks down his teeth hard on Martín’s neck. It is loud, impossible for anyone in the showers to have missed.

Martín freezes against him and Luciano stops, his heart drumming deafening in his ears.

“Hey, you ok in there, buddy?” a worried voice calls from the next stall.

Martín takes one trembling breath, and swallows.

“Yeah,” he answers back with surprising entegrity. Luciano presses his lips against his bite mark gently, almost apologetically - then, he gives Martín’s erection a slow tug, once, twice, thrice. Martín has to reach back and sink his blunt nails in Luciano’s hip bone to ground himself, but he does manage to say; “Just stubbed my toe, that’s all.”

Then don’t really pay attention to the answer they get from the man. Luciano smirks and rolls his hips against Martín, his cock slidding sweetly between Martín’s asscheecks, and picks up the pace again.

“Nice catch,” he mumbles against his ear, bites and pulls at his earlobe.

Martín doesn’t have it in him to answer, too busy trying to push air into his lungs - he must be so damn close then, Luciano won’t be able to keep torturing him for much longer.

He lets go of his erection - and it truly is a testament of how gone Martín is that he doesn’t have it in him to complain -, turns Martín around again and catches his mouth between his lips. He presses their chests and aligns their erections together, and curls his hand under the soft curve of Martín’s ass to haul him up. Martín has enough presence of mind to curl his legs around Luciano’s waist and grasp his shoulders, anchoring himself safely in place. He closes his eyes and throws his head back against the tiled wall as Luciano fucks earnestly into him, slides their wet cocks together as he sucks and nibbles on Martín’s bruised neck.

The sighs and low groans that the shower rain had drowned before are becoming louder and louder as Martín comes closer to climax. He struggles to keep it down, and Luciano has to slam his hand over his pretty mouth to muffle his moans. Martín doesn’t seem to be bothered by it - he is enjoying every second of it if Luciano had to go by the way his eyes fix on him alight with bone deep lust.

Martín comes with a muffled cry that Luciano is not certain the men around them have not heard, but he can’t bring himself to care - not when he’s as close to orgasm as he is. It takes bucking into Martín’s limp body a couple more times for him to spill with a choked grunt.

He rests his forehead against Martín’s sternum, closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath as he comes down from the post-coital high. He notices the stalls around them are quiet, thankfully empty - he can hear some chatter and laughing back in the dressing room.

Martín runs his fingers across Luciano’s wet curls, pushes his face up and joins their lips together in one open hot kiss. Luciano kisses him back, and just when he thinks he might be willing to go for a second round, Martín pulls back. He runs his thumb across his cheek, and smiles down at him. Luciano kisses his chin, and a wide smirk spreads across his lips.

“You dirty  _ dirty _ bird,” he chides playfully, way too mirthfully to be serious.

Martín throws his head back and laughs openly and loud without an ounce of shame.

Luciano puts him down, and they share one more kiss under the shower rain before Martín pulls back with a grimace and reaches for the back of his thigh.

“I think my cramp is back,” he says.

Luciano has all but to laugh at him.


End file.
